Now it was Yzil’s turn to evade and retreat before an opponent he was reluctant to face in close combat. But if the demon-shark didn’t get him, Shex would by hammering him with one attack spell after another while he was too hard pressed to retaliate. Even a devitan’s defensive enchantments wouldn’t stop them all.
Shex sought to afflict Yzil with uncontrollable panic. With a snarl, the devitan resisted the curse. But it froze him in place for an instant, and the demon shark snagged the left edge of his body in its ebon teeth and started to gobble him down.
Yzil tore himself free but left a substantial portion of his left side behind. Blood billowed from the tattered remnants. Shex cried out in pleasure because no one, not even a devitan, could endure such a hurt and go on fighting.
Except that Yzil did. He swung himself around and buried his fangs in his attacker’s flank, just behind the gill slits. Evidently as susceptible to the malignant effect of the bite as any mundane creature, the spirit-shark convulsed and kept on thrashing. Yzil sucked at its wounds for a second then rushed Shex, emerging from a cloud of dark, pungent gore and leaving a trail of it behind himself.
But it didn’t matter. Yzil hadn’t been able to catch Shex when his body was intact, and the ragged, lopsided cripple he’d become obviously wouldn’t swim as well. The vitan stroked almost lazily backward and commenced another spell.
Yzil said, “Stop.”
No! thought Shex, and obeyed anyway. He stopped retreating and conjuring both. He strained to resume moving, and his body flailed, breaking free of the enchantment. Then Yzil struck, driving his fangs into his opponent’s spine.
Ghastly pain ripped through Shex’s entire body. He struggled to pull free and bring his own fangs to bear, just as Yzil had done with the shark. But the devitan wrapped his tail around him, crumpling and binding him together, and gnawed the bite wound deeper. Then he began to drink in earnest.
Shex’s blood, strength, and will all flowed out of him together, and he dangled quiescent in Yzil’s grip. He noticed his erstwhile supper smirking at the spectacle of his demise and wondered if the idiotic locathah believed it had truly escaped anything, if it imagined the rest of the ixitxachitls would use it more gently.
Then it became too much effort to wonder that or anything at all.
It was morning when a flunky conducted Tu’ala’keth to Yzil’s suite. The coral chambers were large and accordingly luxurious by the standards of a ‘chitl, but to her eye, rather bare of furniture, utensils, and similar amenities.
Body rippling lazily, Yzil floated among a litter of drifting corpses. A trace of blood, the little he hadn’t consumed, clouded, scented, and flavored the water. When he’d sent Tu’ala’keth away, he’d claimed she wouldn’t be safe in his presence, and beholding the slaughter, she rather believed it.
“I know it looks like gluttony,” he said, “but I fear the truth is even sadder: I’m getting old, and after an injury like that, it takes a lot of blood to restore me.”
“You did not have to fight Shex,” she said.
“No, but it was satisfying and a good way for a devitan to conduct himself now and again. It reminds the underlings why they’re afraid of you.”
“Are you well now?”
“Oh, yes.” He curled the edges of his flat body so she could better inspect them. “The scars are impressive and still smart a little, but even those will fade in time.”
“Have I fulfilled my pledge?”
“Yes, brilliantly. Shex is gone. It reflects poorly on His Holiness that his emissary was denounced as a traitor, so he’s likely to leave me in peace for a while. Wraxzala won’t dare destroy any more eggs now that we know how she was accomplishing it, and as soon as I contrive an adequate excuse, I’ll rid myself of her as well. Happily, she’s not the Vitanar’s pet, so it shouldn’t be particularly difficult.”
“Then I assume you are ready to repay me.”
Yzil curled himself slightly smaller, a gesture conveying embarrassment or apology and surely one to which a ferocious, imperious devitan was unaccustomed. “I truly appreciate your help, waveservant. But you must ask a different boon. I don’t care how much plunder we could take. I won’t send my troops to fight dragons and wizards. Not on land. The risk is unacceptable.”
“What about the hazards of doing nothing? I explained to you, I have to conquer the wyrms on Tan in order to defeat the dragons running amok here in Seros. If no one stops them, they could ravage Exzethlix.”
“Or they may go elsewhere. My comrade, we’re both initiate in the ways of blood and chaos. If you say you know these cultists hold a solution to your problems, I believe it. But sometimes the dark powers provide answers to our questions that, while true, don’t really help us because we lack the strength to turn the revelations to practical advantage.”
“Yesterday, I lacked the strength. Today, I have it. Exzethlix is the sturdy spear in my hand.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You have always desired the free run of Myth Nantar, to trade in her markets and speak in her councils.”
The ‘chitl laughed bitterly. “As if the allied peoples would ever tolerate ixitxachitls.”
“They accept morkoths, who hold as many slaves as your folk. A morkoth even sits on the Council of Twelve. When I destroy the dragon flight and restore the worship of Umberlee, I will become an influential figure in Myth Nantar. I will exert that influence on your behalf.”
“At which point, His Holiness indicts me for heresy.”
“Naturally, the matter will require circumspection, but I trust you have not forgotten how to scheme. Nor to gamble.”
Yzil pursed his lips and sucked at his fangs, pondering. At last he said, “No. Tempting though it is. I’m sorry.”
“As am I,” said Tu’ala’keth. “I had hoped to do this amiably.”
The ray glared at her. “Meaning what?”
“Today, you are the savior of Exzethlix. Such a hero that, for a while, even the Vitanar will hesitate to interfere with you. But your situation would deteriorate quickly if folk found out you deliberately condemned the wrong person for the destruction of the eggs and left the actual culprit swimming free.”
“I did it that way because you suggested it!”
She shrugged. “Who will care? You still bear responsibility for your own decisions.”
“You realize,” he said, “that if I kill a shalarin, a slave creature, here and now, no one will question or care about that either.”
“Are you entirely healed? As you gorged on blood, did you take the time to replenish the spells you expended last night? Are you positive you’re a better fighter than I am, and that you could strike me dead so efficiently I wouldn’t even be able to escape these apartments and confide my secrets to someone before I expired?”
He bared his fangs. “There had better be a lot of treasure.”
CHAPTER 11
he locathah spread the mouth of the net bag, and the fish swam sluggishly forth. They were already dying, poisoned by the enchantments the spellcasters had poured into their veins, and that was fine. It made them easier to catch.
Wraxzala kicked forward, converging on the cloud of fish with the other ixitxachitls, and sank her teeth into her share of the bounty. The blood was vile, bitter with power, and she had to clench herself to keep from retching it back up. Pain burned through her guts and blurred her vision then waned.
Afterward, she didn’t feel any different, and wondered if the magic had truly prepared her for the venture to come. Then she sneered at the very notion, for obviously, nothing could do that.
She peered back and forth, at the other warriors, ixitxachitl and slave, waiting here in the shallows with the surface of the benighted sea rippling just a few yards above their heads. Yzilcurse him! had promised the surviving thralls soft treatment, and his fellow ‘chitls, advancement, and some of the stupider folk in each category looked eager to get started. Most, however, appeared so tense and morose, it was plain they shared Wraxzala’s trepidation.